


Salvation

by Auty_Ren



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Eventual Sex, F/M, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Yearning, arrainged marriage type trope, canonical violence, mentions of death/injury, panic and similar themes, pinning, small amounts of steamy stuff for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28387035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auty_Ren/pseuds/Auty_Ren
Summary: “Don't worry about such things.”His thumb ran delicately over the bottom of your lip, tracing down until he held your chin in between it and his forefinger. He tipped your face to look up at him, his knuckles brushing across your throat as his hand fell to your chest. His fingers splayed across your exposed skin, his gloves are warm and soft as they made their way back up and finally wrapped around your neck.“You're here now.”-A Mand'alor!Mando au
Relationships: Din Djarin/ Reader, Din Djarin/ You, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/ You, The mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/ Reader
Comments: 35
Kudos: 182





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> We’re just getting started babes and holy shit I'm so excited for Mand'alor!Mando. We get to see the best of both worlds! Mand'alor!Mando is a combination of my two favorite stories to write, Clan Leader Mando + Dark!Mando. Enjoy💗
> 
> Come say hi on my Tumblr: @auty-ren
> 
> Also, I’ll give a sticker to whoever can guess who the female guard Mando is lol

There was a vice that kept hold of your being, suspended between two planes of existence as you sat helpless to watch time pass at an agonizing pace. It filled you with dread, a heavy and pulling weight that settled in your stomach and had you glued to the floor; praying that the next thrum of violence that waged outside your door would be softer.

You hoped and pleaded every second you sat cowering in your home wouldn't be in vain, that something good would come of the war that had been building in weeks prior. The violence that crept over your village somewhat overnight, an uneasiness that settled between neighbors, and had people barricading their doors with fear.

You squeezed your palms tighter over your ears at the shrill sound of gunfire piercing through the walls of your home. The ground felt alive with footfalls and the impact fire, defeating sounds muffled between layers of durasteel were all you could hear, save for a few lost words that winded aimlessly through the air.

From your window you made out a figure that streamed across the sky; their form bulky and unnatural around the faint release of a jetpack that followed behind them.

Mandalorians had been passing through your village for as long as you could remember. Quiet and brooding warriors who often demanded very little and hardly left a trace that they had ever stepped foot in your town. You felt nothing but respect, considering that all your life you had seen the kindness that had been disguised behind layers of beskar and tall-tales of savage upbringings. As a child, you remember them speaking so softly to you, something that clashed with their demeanor and the heavy blasters that often rested on their hips.

There was never trouble, any thug that had made their way into your village was soon left scrambling at the sight of your guardians. No one ever dared to speak a harsh word in their presence, and your people were left with safe and warm homes that prospered when it felt the Galaxy was falling apart.

Mandalorians had protected you all of your life. But now you wanted more than anything for them to disappear, to fade away like the final wisps of smoke from dying embers. 

You just wanted the noise to stop.  
Your eyes had dried beyond the point of tears, streaks of their remnants covered your face and left your skin feeling raw and tacky as your eyes squeezed shut. You heaved a dry sob as the walls of your home shook again, tremors vibrating at the ends of your fingertips as they scraped across the floor. Your joints ache from sitting so long, from trembling in the corner of your home as the only way to seek shelter.

There is a heavy thump that breaks through the noise, something solid that lands over your head. You can hear the unmistakable sound of footfalls as they walk across your ceiling, each step like a knife that twists deeper and deeper into an already gushing wound. Your grasp for anything you can reach, the leg of the table next to you, a book that had fallen from your desk, anything to ward off whatever was making its way to your front door. You felt pathetic, sure that whoever would burst into your home in the next seconds would find joy in the way your hands shook as you held them up in front of you, your only defense.

The weight that you had been holding in your shoulders came crashing down at the sound of a masked voice coming from your door. The shadow of their legs briefly visible through the gap in the door as lights flashed behind them, gunfire ringing through the small room as they barked a message about ‘Imps’ into their commlink.

‘Imperials’ they called themselves, led by the magistrate elect to ‘relieve our town from the clutches of oppressive rulers,’ or so they put it. Suddenly your town was full of strangers, of mercenaries with nasty tendencies that left you hesitant to leave your doorstep. Your home was turned into a hellhole in a matter of weeks, warm and kind faces were replaced with snarling teeth that spit evil in your direction every time you faced them. 

‘All in the name of progress.’  
Destruction was the only thing that progressed in these short months, and Moff Gideon had no trouble thriving off every ounce of sacrifice he could squeeze from your town. Gideon had used any and all authority he had to wage war on the Mandalorians, the people you considered your protectors. You and nearly half of the village knew he was crazy for doing such a thing, for provoking the wrath of a people who had carved legends of war and battle into every corner of the Galaxy. All of this suffering because he was too greedy for something that was never his.

Your limbs were heavy by the time sunlight peered over the horizon, brief wisps of warmth dancing across your eyelids as you blinked awake from where you sat.

There was nothing but silence, heavy silence that was damning after a night of constant chaos. Early morning fog still lingered, your breath puffing in front of your face as you pulled yourself to stand. Your door was ripped open before you could even think, your only thought wanting to be able to witness whatever had been left in last night's wake.

The ground was firm and solid beneath your feet, your legs shaking as you stepped off the porch of your home and for the first time in forever everything was still. There was nothing but the faint shuffle of your feet across the ground, and the muffled conversations in the homes you passed by. It seemed you weren’t the only one who was curious; familiar faces grew in number, their eyes wide and interested in the wreckage just as you were, everyone you met wondered what would become next. Some of them wept, holding whoever was closest as relief washed over them. Some of them celebrated, cheers echoing through streets as they basked in the absence of Imperials in their homes.

You stood, staring down an alley where the body of an Imperial laid unmoving in the dirt, their white armor smudged, cracking, and littering the wet ground. The reality of what had been happening only a few hours prior laid heavy on your chest, curling tight around your ribs until you felt there was no way to take a breath.

Your hands were shaking as you reached for your face, covering your lip as it trembled from swelling emotion and finally breaking away from the scene before you. You backtracked, fully intent on turning to run back the way you had come when you bumped into someone; their arm came up to grab yours, steadying you as their questions fell upon deaf ears. You stared at the woman before you, the brows knit in concern as she repeated her question.

“Are you alright?”

Everything was starting to bleed together, the sounds of people emerging from their homes suddenly became far too loud, and your awareness of where you stood punching you in the gut. You winced away from the woman, pulling your arm from her grip and ignoring how she called after you. Your lungs swelled with each heaving breath you took, the ground beneath you disappearing faster and faster as you tried to find your way home. Neighboring villagers found their ways into the streets, crowding alleyways and blocking your way home. You ran into a few of them, whispered apologies falling from your lips as you fought to hold yourself upright.

You needed to take a breath. You needed to slow down.  
There was no distinction between the voice in your head and the concerned words of people you passed; friends, neighbors, all people you had known for most of your life.

They just want to help and part of you doesn't understand why you don't listen to them.

The ache that tears through your skull sends waves of nausea down your spine, your eyes blinking slowly at the dirt that sat just a few inches from your face. Your breath disturbed it, puffs of clay-colored soil swirling in front of you, and some of it landing on your cheeks.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, your entire side sore from how hard you had hit the ground. It was slow, your limbs feeling heavy and weighed even with adrenaline buzzing underneath your skin.

There was hardly any noise now, just a few whispers that danced between the crowds; the tail ends of sentences being lost as they shush themselves. You hear the scuffle of boots hitting the ground, their gate heavy and kicking up dirt in your peripheral. The dark-colored toe of someone's boot walks into your line of sight, you watch the leather come to a stop just a few inches from where your hand pressed into the mud. You followed the boot up the length of its owner’s body until you were met with the bulky visor of a beskar helmet, embers of the morning sun peeking out from behind the silver shine. 

He offers his hand out to you, the ends of his gloves a bright orange that was weathered at the tips. The leather was worn but soft to the touch as his hand wrapped around yours, pulling you to your feet with just a little bit more force than necessary. Your hand shot out to brace yourself against his chest, your weight falling against the solid expanse of his cuirass as you huffed out a curse. Your head was still spinning as you clung to him, trying to find balance on your own two feet as you looked at the stranger. His armor looked new, bright, and unsoiled save for the dirt that smudged from where you had touched it; your eyes are drawn to the obnoxious color offset by the dark linen of his clothes. You mutter an apology, moving to separate yourself from him but find yourself trapped under the arm he used to steady you.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the other Mandos who are waiting on him. Their armors a deep matching blue with white accents on the face of their masks, they stood at attention as if they were waiting on their next command. You looked back at the man in front of you, who you assumed was their leader, your hand still laying on his chest and your faces even closer than they had been before.

His hand hesitated just a breath away from your face, his fingers twitching before he pushed strands of your hair out of your eyes, the leather of his glove tickling the shell of your ear. The knuckles of his fingers traced down your jaw, his touch light and curious as he studied you. His thumb stopped at the apex of your cheek and he drags the pad of it across the same spot of skin a few times, brushing off the dirt that had stuck to your face.

You could hardly breathe under his attention, your lungs burning from how long you waited in between small intakes of breath. His hand was still warm against your face, his other fingers flexing on the hold he kept around your waist. Every second dragged on as you looked at him, studied what little you could see from the layers he wore around his being. Oddly enough, it felt that he was doing the same to you, his gaze felt like a burn as it trailed along with your features, your chest feeling tight and your cheeks hot from how overwhelmed he made you.

And then he was gone.

His hold on you released and he turned back in the direction he had been walking, followed by the Mandos who had stopped and waited for him. They parted the crowds that had formed in the streets, their presence enough to leave anyone in standing back, awestruck just as you had been. You watched their forms disappear from your sight until finally they turned a corner, and you never saw them again.

-

It feels impossible to sleep that night.

Though it had only been a few months, the soured pit in your stomach was telling that memories of Imperials wouldn't fade so easily. There wasn't enough water to wash away the stain that their greed had left behind. Everyone seemed happy, smiling freely and feasting in celebration as the day turned to dusk, and as dusk turned to night you sat, staring at the ceiling of your home and buzzing with something you couldn't quite pin down. You studied the crack that had split that ran from one corner of your home to the next, fresh and taunting you with how you had been cowering beneath this roof only a day ago; watching the stone give way as the very foundation of your house shook. Just outside you could hear voices again; quiet, content voices that felt unfamiliar, almost out of place amongst the chaos that had been living recently.

How could it be over so quickly?  
It only took a day, not even that. Your village was wiped clean, the only evidence that there had even been Imperials, were scraps that had been piled together throughout the streets. Pieces of equipment, armor, a couple of uniforms that had been discarded were all that was left of them. And most of it was being discarded without a second thought. 

You had always heard stories of what Mandalorians could be capable of, but you had never believed them.

People liked to talk, to tell stories. It was easy to believe the tales of warrior races were just constructed, exaggerations of the true history of their people. But you were wrong. You hoped that you stayed wrong, that this wasn't temporary or even worse, a dream.

With every night that passed, it became easier, sleeping without worry you would wake up in hell all over again. It came over you slowly. Ease? Relief? Tranquility long enough for you to rest a few hours, then wake up to rebuild the life that had almost been taken from you. It finally felt safe. Safe to live, safe to breathe, safe to dream again.

But then all at once, it was swept out from under you and your heart plummeted when you answered the door to find two guards standing on your front steps.

“Can I help you?”

You noticed the way he ducked his head, his helmet cock-eyed when he looked at you to keep it from knocking with the frame of your doorway. He spoke very softly, almost gentle in the way he said your name; a stark contrast to the beaten, dull blue armor he wore and the heavy blaster strapped to his back. You looked over his shoulder at the female that followed him, her back was turned to you as she scanned the street in front of your home. She wasn’t as large as he was, but her armor was just as thick and a beautiful maroon color that glinted in the sun when she turned to face you.

They both waited for you to answer, turning to look at each other when you gave them a small nod, confirming that they had found who they were looking for.

“The Mand’alor has sent us for you.” The woman spoke, her tone clipped as she took a step closer. “Please. Come with us.”

Your fingernails dug into the softwood of the door frame, your skin burning from the way it dragged across the rough terrain until you released it, balling your fist at your side. You made no other attempt at moving, and neither did they. 

There would be no point in arguing, you would never be able to outrun two Mandalorians, but it felt very tempting at that moment.

“The….Mand’alor?”

You had heard the name before, a few of the Mandalorians in town had spoken it in passing and while you had never asked them who or what it meant, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

They had asked for you by name, and they were too occupied to come and find you themselves.   
You tried to wrack your brain for anything you could’ve done to cause this, of what could have upset someone to this point.

But then again, if they were upset, they probably would’ve just had you killed.  
You looked behind you at the mess that was strewn across your room, crates of your belongings dumped in the tiny space and making it much smaller than it seemed. There was no telling where you were going, or how long you’d be gone but maybe you could take a few things with you.

“Can I have a minute please?”

You moved to shut the door, just wanting a little privacy to get a bag ready, but you were stopped when the female guard’s arm shot out, holding the frame still just a few inches before it would’ve closed.

“You don't need to take anything.” She huffed and pushed the door back open, stepping through the threshold to stand directly in front of you. “Come with us.”

You couldn't think of anything to say, not that she wanted a response from you, you just stood there staring at the two Mandalorians who crowded your doorway. She practically snarled an order at you, becoming increasingly impatient with how unresponsive you were.

“Now.”

-

Sometime later....

“I-... I don't understand.”

He had you pinned, backed into a wall that you wished would open up and swallow you whole. Your face burned with shame but you couldn't figure out from what. From him? From how close he stood to you? From how every word that dripped from his lips was sweet? Like thick, sugary honey that became far more addictive than any spice you ever heard of; and you were glutenous in wanting more of those delicious words that he seemed so confident saying.

Shamefully so.

“Don't worry about such things.”

His thumb ran delicately over the bottom of your lip, tracing down until he held your chin in between it and his forefinger. He tipped your face to look up at him, his knuckles brushing across your throat as his hand fell to your chest. His fingers splayed across your exposed skin, his gloves are warm and soft as they made their way back up and finally wrapped around your neck.

“You're here now.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers flexed, his grip almost ghosting, as if he was afraid you'd break under any pressure.

You wished you could see his face, the blank stare of his visor did not indicate what he was thinking; though you imagined he was enjoying this from the way he touched you. He was like molten that left your skin burning in its wake, your heart fluttering as he moved over every inch that was shown to him. He held your jaw in the palm of his hand, his helmet coming only a hairbreadth away from your face; your breath puffing clouds of condensation on the smooth surface.

“You're mine.”


	2. He Will Come Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally find out why the Mand’alor sent for you, and make a new friend along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, enjoy babes. Love y’all.
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr: @auty-ren

“No need to get pissy,” she sighed, sitting on the chaise at the end of the bed. 

Stretching, she braced her arms behind her and leaned her weight back, looking up at the ceiling as she rolled her neck from side to side.

“I’m not excited about it either.”

You turned away from the balcony door, tall and covered with detailed glass that reflected in the sun. You could hardly tear your eyes from the gleaming skyline of the city, light seeping through the window and painting gold along the patterns in white marble floors, the same patterns shrouding your bodies like painted pictures. Her helmet turned, slowly the visor dipped as she watched you pace, waiting until you stood beside her at the end of the bed before she sat up again. She sat stiff, her posture straight and unforgiving as she became a soldier again; no longer blessed with a moment of solace she had been taking.

“Then why are you still here?” You asked her, turning your head in questioning.

Mira paused for a moment, her maroon helmet shining as she turned her head, looking over her shoulder and out to the same window you had been.

“Because I do as I’m told.”

Most of your afternoon had been spent in this room, with Mira, your guardian. Or more accurately your babysitter.

“An escort, at your service.” She had called your arraignment.

Since the moment the ship landed at the docking bay in the heart of the city, Mira had never left your side. She ushered you away when you gawked, staring up into the sky with wide eyes at the magnificent buildings. Towers built of deep-colored stone and glass reached into the heavens, light bathing the city in a warm glow; the armor of all its people glinting in the same way Mira’s did, the streets crowded like any other city. Some helmeted and covered head to toe in beskar, others were less guarded and hardly distinguishable as Mandalorians.

There wasn’t enough time to ask questions, to ponder about things; Mira had a mission and she had treated you as such. She finally ushered you into this bedroom, in a building high above that looked over everything, only then did she stop long enough for you to take a breath, to think long enough on something coherent to say. 

You had been her ‘captive ever since,’ a joke that had meant to ease the tension left behind her silence. She had laughed, or you guessed she had, the noise she made was hardly intelligible through her helmet.

Mira had been quiet, only speaking when necessary and sometimes leaving your conversation to be one-sided. As the hours ticked away, the hardened demeanor she wore cracked only slightly, you guess out of pity, since she had watched you pace around for hours. No more clipped sentences but her words were chosen carefully, like she didn’t know exactly what to say. 

You guessed small talk wasn’t a pastime for Mandalorians, but her effort didn’t go unnoticed.

-

“Had you never left your planet before?”

Her voice cut through the drone of hyperspace, purples and greys dancing across the windshield in front of you when your eyes finally peeled open. You were dazed, to say the least, your body slumping against your chair when exhaustion had finally caught up to you, and hoping to find some form of rest. You blinked at her a couple of times, the guard who fetched you from your home and was now dragging you half-way across the galaxy. She stared at you, tilting her helmet to engage you again, still waiting for you to answer her previous question.

“Never.”

Her counterpart was still uninterested, facing forward and messing with the console in front of him to look busy. Unlike him, she had turned around in her seat to face you. The console beeped behind her, and she moved to answer it, reaching behind her casually for the source without even looking back to find it. She kept observing you, nothing about her gaze seem malicious, at the very least it was just curious. You were at a loss of what to say, her obvious attempt at engaging you an invitation that you shied away from, paying attention instead to the belt strapping you to your seat.

“I’m Mira.” 

She offers her hand, stretching it out between the two of you while you looked at it dumbfoundedly. She turned her palm up, repeating her name and insisting you take her hand. You finally did, her grip feeling suffocating as you told her your name; inwardly flinching when she confirmed it, forgetting she had already known your name.

An alarm sounded in the cockpit, her counterpart grunting something out that made her swivel around in her chair, working with him as they brought the ship out of hyperspace. 

The speed dropped to a halt, your body falling forward with a jolt at the sudden change, the pressure in the hull shifting as they began to pilot the ship. You looked over their shoulders expectantly, craning your neck to get a look at their expert movements, their hands gliding across buttons and gears with ease.

It was all so unfamiliar, shiny and sparkling in the pupils of your eye as you took it all in; the last few hours played out like a holoscreen in front of you, unlike the familiarity of your comforts. Your lovely, quiet planet is a mere memory from everything you had absorbed in an afternoon. A grey, dusty planet grew in your vision, new and exciting despite its dull outward appearance. It was bursting with life, other ships in the sector entering and exiting its atmosphere, the white noise of their radios bleeding through to your ship’s comms. Mira turned to look at you, offering you a greeting over her shoulder.

“Welcome to Mandalore.”

-

“Come.”

Mira had been fiddling with the vambrace mounted on her wrist; fussing with dials and settings before you heard a message come through to her, the voice on the other end of her comm muffled through the layers of her helmet. She gave them a reply in a language you didn’t recognize, gesturing for you to follow as she stood in front of you.

“What for?”

You put down the book you had been flipping through; a heavy, dark-colored canvas covering a thick spine full of pages of questions, something you had picked up from the table sitting between the furniture near the fireplace.

“Dinner. You've been invited.” Mira offers her hand to you again, and she leaves no room for argument. “Come.”

You look at her glove, stretched out in front of your face, the soft leather glowing from the warm rays of an afternoon sun. Your eyes flicker up to her visor, blank expression hidden behind a deep maroon, your reflection being the only thing looking back at you.

“I’m not hungry,” You were quiet, suddenly shy under her gaze and settling deeper into the seat you had made at the edge of the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She paused for a moment, her fingers flexing in her glove as she moved it back to hang at her side.

“Suit yourself.” She finally said, quiet and calm as she turned to exit the room, looking one more time over her shoulder before she pulled the door closed behind her.

The heavy door locked once it was in place, the sound beating against your ears as it echoed against the polished floors. You watched, standing up from your seat and listening to the voices on the other side. Nothing they spoke of was tangible, you just listened to the sound of footsteps receding down the hall, away from your door. You tried the panel on your wall, swiping through preprogrammed screens until you found what you hoped was the lock. It beeped furiously at you as you tried to open it, pressing the center button as it flashed red in your face.

Mira had locked it from the outside.

You went to the other side of the room, opening the balcony doors next to your bed. The sounds of the city filled your ears; air speeders and transports flying through the skyline, the muted voices of people walking in the courtyard below. You leaned over the stone edge, bracing yourself on the railing as you looked, watching people mingle in and out of the front entrance of this castle. Before long, you saw Mira, her silhouette noticeable even from this distance; she walked with a couple of other Mandalorians disappearing into the crowds before you could figure out where she was going.

There still wasn’t any clue as to why you were brought here. Mira deflected the question in your conversations earlier, turning it around to ask you something about your life or your village.

Now they had left you alone, and you didn’t like it at all.

Something gnawed at your chest, burning and vile as it pumped through your veins the longer you stood there, watching the happy lives of everyone in the city. You turned away, stalking back into your room with tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. Your breath huffed out of your lungs, your hands itching for something to distract them from how hard you had been clenching them.

And then you saw it.

It shined against the dark furniture it was laid upon; soft, beaded fabric draped over one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. You held the dress up in your hands, your touch delicate out of fear you’d ruin it somehow. It was much nicer than your clothes, much nicer than anything you had ever owned; something meant to be cherished or admired in the moments it was worn.

You wanted to scream, your lip shaking and your mind twirling with emotion that had no beginning, no source for the ache that settled into your bones. You tossed the dress back into the chair, the silk suddenly hot in your palms; turning away and not caring that it fell from the seat, laying in a pile on the floor.  
Your breath was hot and puffed against the balcony door, faint but fogging the glass when you pressed your forehead on the cool surface. You watched as speeders flew through the sky, like little black dots following their monotonous patterns, a rhythm that laid over the city with a setting sky as their background. Each breath that filled your lungs burned the longer it stayed, expanding your chest slowly until you stopped, holding everything in a pause broken by a shudder as your breath escaped you again.

You lose count of how long you stay like this, watching the people of this planet continue about their lives, while yours hangs in the clutches of someone you had never even met. The sun has nearly disappeared behind the horizon, the street filling with artificial lights as day turned into night.

There was a knock at your door, short and banging against the durasteel before you heard a warning come from the side panel; the robotic drone that told you the door would be opening.

“Whatever it is, Mira, I don't want it.” You grumbled over your shoulder, not bothering to turn and face whoever entered the room. “I'm not going anywhere.”

There was quiet: no smart remark, no disgruntled sigh that sounded foreign and metallic as it filtered through the modulator of her helmet. You hoped it had been enough to send her away, that after all day, she would finally drop it and leave you be for the rest of the evening.

The door never opened again, they stood still and silent in the middle of your room.

You could hear footsteps again, slower and heavier than Mira’s sounded and followed by a voice that definitely didn’t belong to Mira.

“Good thing I came to find you.” His voice was calm, almost gentle as it bled through the rasp of his helmet. “I’d hate for you to wait for much longer.”

You recognized his armor. It was the same silver, smooth and unsoiled without so much as a blemish marking up the beskar. He was more decorated now, heavy furs hung from his shoulders and the edges of his armor were lined in gold, offset by the dark fabric of his underclothes. A pendant laid around his neck, settling in the center of his chest; the shape of it foreign but it was unmistakably a creature's skull cast out of beskar.

“The Mand’alor?”

You assumed, but by his demeanor alone you would expect nothing less.

“You're the one who sent for me?”

The King, who sent for you.

“I did.”

He nodded, striding across the room to close the space between the two of you. You turned back to the view of the city, closing your eyes for a moment of peace to try and ease the racing feeling bubbling in your chest.

“It’s very beautiful,” He hummed at your compliment, his presence over your shoulder biting with a taunt for you to turn and face him. “The city.”

He spoke again, much closer than he had before and you felt it seep into your very being. A deep, rich sound that was still heavenly behind the metallic drone of a voice coder.

“I'll take you there myself if you'd like.”

You glance at him from your peripheral, keeping your attention out in front of you as you ponder his words, your hands wringing nervously. He looks around for a moment, his helmet turning to survey the room. He paused at the dress, the bright color sticking out and forgotten on your floor unintentionally.

“Did you not like the clothes prepared for you?”

He turned back to you, the face of his helmet reflecting in the glass in front of you, your eyes focusing on him automatically. You turn to face him again, looking at the blank stare of his visor as you gather your thoughts.

“You've left me confused, I'm sorry.” You shake your head, averting your eyes to the sidewall, the words spilling out with a sigh. “I don't know what to think.”

“Forgive me,” He steps closer again, touching your chin like he had done before in your village, bringing your attention back to him as he spoke.

“I wanted our first meeting to go differently. You were missed at dinner.”

He holds you there for a moment, his thumb brushing along your skin in a delicate manner.

“I remember you.” You admit, your eyes flickering across his helm, the lights of the city gleaming in a million different directions and painting his beskar armor. 

“You came to my planet, you and the other Mandalorians.”

“And I remember you, sweet girl.”

Something about his words had you melting, leaning into his touch as heat spread to your face and neck, your eyes doey and blinking up at him as he held onto your face.

“I’ve been very forward, and I hope my intentions have been clear.”

He is almost concerned, genuine with every syllable uttered that sat like rocks in the pit of your stomach.

“I-”

Your thoughts move faster than you can speak them, a million words trapped on the tip of your heavy tongue waiting to be spoken.

“I don't understand.”

He had you pinned, backed into a wall that you wished would open up and swallow you whole. Your face burned with shame but you couldn't figure out from what. From him? From how close he stood to you? From how every word that dripped from his lips was sweet? Like thick, sugary honey that became far more addictive than any spice you ever heard of; and you were glutenous in wanting more of those delicious words that he seemed so confident saying.

Shamefully so.

“You don’t have to worry anymore, sweet girl.”

His thumb ran delicately over the bottom of your lip, tracing down until he held your chin in between it and his forefinger. He tipped your face to look up at him, his knuckles brushing across your throat as his hand fell to your chest. Fingers splaying across your exposed skin, his gloves are warm and soft as they made their way back up and finally wrapped around your neck.

“You can stay here now.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers flexed, his grip almost ghosting, as if he was afraid you'd break under any pressure.

You wished you could see his face, the blank stare of his visor failed to indicate what he was thinking; though you imagined he was enjoying this from the way he touched you. He was like molten that left your skin burning in its wake, your heart fluttering as he moved over every inch that was shown to him. He held your jaw in the palm of his hand, his helmet coming only a hairbreadth away from your face; your breath puffing clouds of condensation on the smooth surface.

“You could be mine.”

Your hands worked of their own accord, feeling along the rough material of his underclothes, trailing up the arms that had you pinned beneath him. You traced patterns up until you were met with his shoulders, the fur that rested their warm and thick between your fingers.

“Would you like that?”

He cut through your daze, your eyes blinking in the reflection of his helmet, your voice tough and scratchy like cotton muffling your words.

“What?”

You swore, had it not been for the layers separating the two of you that he would’ve kissed you. That he would’ve devoured you whole with the press of his lips and the squeeze of his fingers on your body. He brushed pieces of your hair away from your face, his touch lingering across the apple of your cheek as he watched you.

“To stay here, with me?” The words sounded delicate, sliding from his mouth with air and promise he hadn’t spoken before.

Your hands slide down his chest, fiddling with the necklace dangling between the two of you. You turned the heavy pendant over in your palm, the beskar gleaming in the faint glow of the city and the moon that peaked around a foggy sky.

“Locked away in your little tower?”

You look up at him, dropping the necklace from your hand and standing straighter. You watch as his posture slowly begins to mirror yours, his head tilting when he stood back to his full height.

“You will be free to come and go at your own decision.” He says seriously, each word like another prayer etched into stone.

“Should you wish to leave Mandalore, you will have escorts who will take you anywhere you please.” 

He steps away from you a little bit, allowing you room to move again, acting out the promise behind his words.

“You are in no way my prisoner.”

It was his offering, presented to you in the form of dresses, and towers, and gold lining to drape beautifully across your skin. The finer things wrapped in big, delicate bows, completely at your disposal should you want them for the rest of your life.

“Then what will I be?”

You watch him carefully, trying to see him past layers of armor and waiting for him to speak. The world around you seemed quiet, quiet compared to the thump of your heart against your ribs and the occasional breath you squeezed out of your lungs.

“My wife,” He was careful, tasting the words on his tongue like they were the sweetest promise he could give. “If you agree to be so.”

He pulled a tiny box from a pouch attached to his belt, sleek and black as night with a silk ribbon tying it together. He held it out for you, dropping it in your up-turned palm for you to examine, your thumb rubbing back and forth over the edge as you studied it.

-

Everything in this room sparkled; new and bright like celestial constellations caught under your fingertips. You stood, picking apart piece by delicate piece until every corner of the room had been discovered; sifting through piles of silk and beads hanging in wardrobes, of shelves covered in weathered parchment, of books piled on a desk, most of them aged beyond your years. It was long into the evening before you came up for air, knee-deep in a trunk filled with tokens from another life, your muscles aching and your eyes heavy with sleep.

The Mand’alor left you to your own devices, the air hanging heavy with his request.

“.... think about it.”

An unspoken promise that he would see you again, excitement laying beneath the surface of civility as he bid you goodnight.

His voice still rang in your ears, repeating his warm sentiments over and over until you buried your nose into books, written in languages you hardly understood. It was temporary ease, something to distract you for long enough for your head to finally stop swimming. Although the weight of such a decision was inevitable, heavy, and pressing on your shoulders as they stung with exhaustion.

The hot water prickled against your skin, stinging and bubbling across tender flesh as you bathed in a ceramic tub. A lone bath tucked away behind an ornate door, one you finally decided to open in your exploring. There were soaps and creams scented like sweetpea and sugars, already waiting for you. The bath was completely furnished and stocked like the rest of the bedroom. You picked a gown from the wardrobe, the material soft and silky against your still clammy skin, goosebumps left on what the long hem didn’t cover. Your cheeks still warm from a hot bath, despite the cool air that filtered through the open doors of the balcony.

You sat on the edge of the bed, the blankets already turned back and waiting for you to crawl beneath them. The gift from the Mand’alor sat heavily on your side table, drawing your eye until you picked it up again.

It was left unopened, too afraid to explore what was inside while he stood a few feet away, afraid that whatever material rested inside would carry a weight you could quite bear. You thanked him nonetheless, your face hot when you offered him a polite ‘goodnight’ and watched him leave the bedroom.  
You pulled at the silk ribbons at the top, the material falling open and dropping to lay at your feet. With shaking fingers you pulled the fitted top of the box open setting it aside as the object came into full view.

It was made of leather, darkly colored, and polished with a softness that felt cool under your fingertips. The center was decorated by a metal ring, the same width as the leather with a pendant cast out of beskar.

The same skull he wore cast out of beskar.

There was a note attached to the inside, a simple card written carefully in ink.

“Made just for you.” -Din

You ran your finger over the creature, following the natural lines of its jaws and admiring the craftsmanship carved out of the metal.

It was meant to mirror him.

Your chest hollowed the longer you looked at it, something kin to excitement stirring in your veins at the thought of wearing such jewelry. The image of it hanging delicately across your neck, of gloved fingers, exploring how it looked and running tenderly over your skin, leaving your stomach doing flips; full of a yearning for something you hadn’t even tasted yet.

Before your mind could wander, you placed the lid back on the box, laying it back on the side table, and turned over to go to sleep.


End file.
